March 30, 2008

We chose to go to San Giorgio’s Catholic Church this morning. For those of you who know what an Anglophile that I am, I chose this one because of St. George and the dragon (St. George is the patron saint of England.) The churches here do not have steeples with bells in them, but rather bell towers beside the church. Here is a shot of the church with the bell tower beside it.

Here is a haloed Saint George atop his tower forever slaying his dragon.

Shots of the church.

I saw this neat old building next to where they are doing some construction. Isn’t it a quaint fixer-upper?

One of the things that I wanted to hear when I came to Italy was the church bells. It is lovely to hear all the churches in Pordenone ring their bells many times every day calling the faithful to mass. Click on the picture to hear San Giorgio’s bells.

March 29,2008

As I said before evenings are spent by people just strolling the streets, lounging in front of the cafes, and window shopping. The merchants who have the stores tucked in the little archways have to advertise their location somehow. Here is one creative lady’s way to lore you back to see what she has to offer. Like being led a pied piper, we followed the candle-lit pathway.

If you look sometimes you can see these decorated grottoes amidst the businesses.

This hole in the wall contained a rather swanky restaurant. You would never know it by looking head-on but off to the right was this inviting door.

We walked along the river and watched this swan making a nest. Two ducks were also observing her.

Saturday is also market day with more vendors than Wednesday’s market. Here is a meat vendor and a cheese vendor. Don’t forget the prices are in Euros which is currently around $1.58 to one Euro.

Here are some more mountain shots taken from town.

March 28, 2008

Here are some more shots taken around Pordenone. First is a picture of Duomo San Marco. In the previous day’s posting the large tower/steeple is right beside the church.

This is a side door to the church.

A stone wall runs along the street beside the church.

This is mural/picture on the side of the town hall. (See previous posting).

There is a little piazza, Piazza San Marco, between these two buildings with this fountain in the center.

If you follow the street in the previous picture you cross the river and there is Trinity Church. Doesn’t every town have a Trinity?

A postal worker on her rounds uses a different mode of transportation. No little truck for her like the US postal service uses.

Some avian Italians. There is no respect of the statues; maybe that’s why the ones in the park are minus their heads.

These pigeons posed without me even asking.

The peaks of the Dolomites peeking above Pordenone.

March 26, 2008

Breakfast is European buffet style here at the hotel, which means juices, cold cereal, hard boiled eggs, cold meats, cheeses and all sorts of breads, croissants, yogurt, fresh and canned fruits. And you have your choice of cappuccino, café latte, espresso, etc. Now I am not a coffee drinker, but I am loving this stuff! David was up and out early as they all had a meeting at the plant. I cannot eat that early, so I went down later and then headed out to see the sights. I wished, like Hansel and Gretel, that I had breadcrumbs to drop along the way so I didn’t get lost going down the labyrinth of streets. But the hotel has a rudimentary map to follow noting landmarks and main streets, so I felt somewhat comfortable with that as my guide.

Wednesdays are market days in Pordenone, so the piazza was bustling with shoppers. Most of them were on foot, but many rode bicycles. I loved seeing the women that appeared to be in their late 60’s, 70’s pedaling along, baskets mounted on the handlebars. It was wonderful watching all the people going about their commerce, visiting with each other. Even though you can’t understand exactly what they are saying, you can imagine the conversations: “Hi! How are you? Beautiful day.” And it was a beautiful day with sunshine, blue sky. Now lest you think we are in the balmy part of Italy, you are mistaken. The weather here is very similar to southern PA. The early flowering trees are in blossom, but the mornings are quite chilly. Everyone was dressed in winter coats, hats, scarves. I followed suit but got quite warm walking around, although I was glad for my coat in the shade.

Okay, enough narration. Here are some of the pictures I took. The first is the Municipio (Palazzo communale) or Town Hall, built between 1291-1395.

I found a park where I sat on the bench awhile, just listening to the sounds. It is called Piazzale Quattro Novembre, which I have no idea what the significance of what that date means. (There is also another park named for a date in September.) The park is laid out with an octagonal center, with paths encircling and leading out like four spokes on a wheel. Around the perimeter are trees, trimmed pencil thin. Interspersed between the trees are these headless statues. I wondered if they were always lacking their heads or if vandals had decapitated them. Or maybe the town fathers felt safe erecting them headless to preclude any more mischief. Either way, they were all different and interesting.

Here is a picture taken from the park of a church steeple which I believe belongs to Duomo (church) di San Marco, which dates from the 13th century.

Some street pictures and views of the different architectural styles.

For dinner we were all invited out by the Cimolai (name of the company fabricating the bridge) bigwigs to a rather nice restaurant. Salvatore, who seems to be second in command of the plant, ordered for us and we were quite happy to follow his suggestions. Appetizer was thinly sliced ham, indigenous to the region, but not the Parma variety that most people are familiar with. This was a smoked whole ham that was on a table in the corner and pieces were individually shaved for you by the head waiter. There was a champagne type wine accompanying this course.. Next came a pasta dish, served with a tomato sauce (fresh tomatoes, no canned stuff!) with black olives, onion, what tasted like bacon, cheese. (I’m guessing at all the ingredients but it was delicious.) The pasta itself was a very thick spaghetti with a minute hole inside. And my word for the day became bucco , or hole. A white wine accompanied this dish. The next course we had fish, (the other option would have been beef.) I chose the fish that had capers, small potatoes, some other herbs and vegetables over it, like a salsa. As Salvatore instructed us, this brings out the flavor of the fish, enhances it, not covers it up with a heavy sauce like the French do. (Other comments made about the French led me to believe he was not fond of that nationality.) Red wine with this one, which totally blows the red meat/red wine, fish/white wine rule. Ah, dessert! This was a homemade gelato (ice cream) made on the premises, a private recipe. I emphasize cream here because it was smooth as silk, served with some kind of liquor poured over it. I’d have preferred mine plain.

After café we were served a final liquor called grappa. It sounds like a lovely name for what tasted to me like paint thinner. The nearest comparison would be American white lightning. One little sip took my breath away and burned all the way down. I could have passed on this, but you know the saying, when in Rome….

I wish I could relate in more detail the dinner conversation I had with Salvatore. (I was seated directly across from him.) While his English was good, he had to rely on an occasional clarification from one of his younger underlings. He gave us a lesson on Italian food, as per our dinner courses, holding court at the table like the man of importance he is. When the Italian word for “kid”, as in a young sheep, was being discussed, he sent one of the solicitous waiters scurrying to research the translation. Salvatore was rapturous about the architect of the bridge being built, which led to a discussion of the Italian mind and Italy’s great contribution to the art world in all forms. From diVinci, Michelangelo, Brunelli, Verdi, Armani, Ferrarri… the list goes on and what these people have contributed to the world in terms of painting, sculpture, architecture, music, fashion, engineering. I jokingly asked Salvatore if this talent was genetic, to which he laughed and said it probably was in their DNA, but you have to look at the history of Italy. First influenced by the Greeks, and later the Arabic peoples, Italy has absorbed the best of al cultures. (Note the mosaic-style painting in one of the earlier photos for the Arabic influence, the white building for the Greek.) Whatever the reason, the Italian people, as well as the country itself, is amazing.

March 24,2008

As my earlier e-mail noted, we arrived in Italy on Tuesday morning, Italian time. A couple of snafus along the way that were simply solved. Our four suitcases were packed within a fraction of the weight limit, so no extra money was needed. I won’t bore you with travel details, but just wanted to comment on various customs / boarding procedures / inspections of different countries. When we were getting on the plane at Philadelphia, there was a woman literally barking instructions to the passengers. She was treating us like mindless unruly school children who needed to be herded into certain groups. If I were a foreign visitor, this certainly wouldn’t have helped the characterization that other countries sometimes perceive Americans to be loud, brash, rude.

We had to transfer planes in Germany (Frankfort) for our flight to Venice. Ah, German customs, do I need to say more? The spirit of the Hun is alive and well there. And of course David wearing his steel-toed work boots to help with the luggage weight, plus some of his tools of his trade in the carry on only helped add to the officious and authoritative treatment there. I realize in this unfortunate day and age of threats extreme precautions must be taken, but there is a courteously professional way to do it.

This final leg of the trip was the best, not only for its short duration (@ 45 minutes), nor for the fact it was the final ride, but because we flew across the Alps. I didn’t realize what we were fling over at first because one minute we were in the clouds and the next minute I looked out the window and there was Heidi-land, the Sound of Music scenery below! Of course there is still snow on the tops which made a striking contrast with the steep sides and valleys lower down. I wish I had pictures to show you but the camera was tucked away. As we flew nearer Venice, the land abruptly flattened out. There didn’t seem to be much of a transition to hills, just huge mountains and flat land, embroidered with winding waterways of rivers and canals.

We picked up our rental car, an Italian Fiat. Just a quick comment here on that: when David was making arrangements with the car rental, an Italian father was doing the same for his family of four and he must have overheard what type of car we were getting. He comes back to his wife, whispers something to her while looking in my direction. She turns and looks at me too, sitting with two suitcases, two computers and a carryon piled on a cart, and two other large suitcases setting beside the cart. I must have looked like Ma Joad sitting there with all my worldly possessions. The husband and wife both start to giggle and I said, hoping they understood English, “you don’t think we can fit all this in a compact?” She laughed and shook her head. Well, we made it and with inches to spare! We could have squeezed another carryon in there if needed!

Now David has driven in England and Ireland, so driving stick shift in a foreign country was no challenge to him, besides the Italians drive on the fight side of the road, just like in America, so a piece of cake. Our challenge, after racing on the motorway for about a 45 minute drive, was to find our hotel amidst a city about the size of Williamsport. Pordenone has about four or so exits and the first we took led us to an Industrial park. Back on the motorway to try the next exit, which turned out to be central city. Now in America, our streets are laid out in a grid pattern, here, I don’t think there is a straight street anywhere. At the very least, they curve with the majority being a twisting, turning snail of pavement, brick or cobblestone. But that is the quaintness we admire in pictures, no? And there are no billboards and flashing neon signs to alert you to your destinations. We finally asked a gentleman, whose English, while adequate, was a tough to follow. So he kindly drew us a nicely detailed map which we followed successfully.

Pictures of apartments across the street from our hotel.

We were exhausted of course, so did a little unpacking and took a wee nap as we were meeting the other guys who are here for a few days for supper. All of the others are from NC or Texas; we are the only two Yankees, and thus the only two people who don’t have accents. We were hoping to find a tratorria, or mom and pop type place, to eat as none of us were really hungry. There were plenty of osterias (restaurants) and cafes to choose from, but not what we were in the mood for. One of the Texans inquired of a lady walking along the street where we might find a place to eat. She looks him blankly as she doesn’t understand what he is saying, even in Texan dialect. He rubs his stomach to indicate hunger, she gets an “aha” expression on her face, and leads us a few doors away to a grocery store. She explains in broken English and the universal rubbing of the thumb and index finger to indicate money, that a grocery store is cheaper than a restaurant. I told her we were in a hotel and therefore no way to cook. It must have been the Yankee accent, or my superb explanation, but she understood what I said. She then continued to lead us along the street till she turned to go down what appeared to my eyes to be a narrow alley. We all paused and she gestured with her arm to follow her and plucked at my sleeve for emphasis, so we followed. Ah, a pizza-type shop, although there was much more on the menu than pizza. We said grazie to our kind guide and all five guys and me sat down to a delicious supper. David and I shared a pizza, which as you might expect in Italy, is so far above and removed from our poor American version. Delicioso! And so ended our rather long Monday (6:30 AM) that has now stretched to 10:00 PM Tuesday.